her table and held out my beautifully manicured hand. She looked startled, then laughed and we danced away. She kept asking me questions, but I just pointed to my little scar on my throat and smiled. We stayed at the club for over an hour and then went back to the house party. I wonder if that puzzled little lady ever made up her mind about me.

L's ex-husband convinced her that they belonged together, and L—, like Millie was tucked away in my scrapbook of memories.

At one of the office Christmas parties, I met my present wife N-. Dur- ing our dating period, I tried to tell her about myself, but she didn't want to hear about it. Every time I started to talk about it, she would brush it off with a casual “Your past is your own." I simply couldn't make her see how my being a TV would seriously affect our lives. One evening, though, I was determined that she would know what I was; so, with no other build up, I simply told her that I was a Transvestite. She asked, "What's that?" I explained to her as best I could and offered to dress for her. She cut me off with "Don't ever wear those clothes in my presence," and changed the subject. I was frustrated, but at least, I had tried. As with Judy in TVia No. 48, I had a choice to make, and chose N―. My clothes were packed away in a trunk and locked.

We had been married only a very short time before the arguments started. I didn't talk, act, eat or anything else right as far as she was concerned. Then she started asking questions about what was in the trunk. This time I became stubborn and told her that it was none of her business-it contained personal belongings and to leave it alone.

I came home from work one evening and was met at the door by one extremely angry, shouting, cursing wife. She called me all sort of names- -none of them complimentary! She ran the course of names all the way from hypocrite to fairy. I tried to control myself since I hadn't learned the reason for her outburst. When I did find out I lost my temper too, and one of the bitterest fights we've ever had followed. There in the middle of the spare bedroom stood my trunk-open and empty. She had forced the lock and then proceeded to burn everything in the incinerator. The arguments over this continued for three nights before we could sit down and discuss it calmly. Her curiosity had gotten the best of her and she just had to open the trunk. She claimed that she had had no idea that I had such a wardrobe and the shock of seeing all those women's clothes were just too much for her and she had to destroy them. I re- minded her that I had tried to explain and show her what I was. She wasn't buying any, though, thank you; and to this day, she still feels

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